


rock me back to sleep

by aleanmeanaquamarine



Category: The Brotherband Chronicles - John Flanagan
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queerplatonic Relationships, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleanmeanaquamarine/pseuds/aleanmeanaquamarine
Summary: Jens has a nightmare, but it's alright, because Frey's there, like he always is, steady and comforting.
Relationships: Frey & Jens
Comments: 14
Kudos: 13





	rock me back to sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artanogon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artanogon/gifts).



> my darling dear val!!! hello!!!!!!! if you haven't read stigal ch. 5 yet, go do that. if you HAVE, i'm very sorry for your loss. here is some h/c to put a bandaid on a bullet would, so to speak.
> 
> or a saber wound.
> 
> anyways, i hope you enjoy. happy late birthday <33
> 
> god bless it's one am send help

Waves crash against the shoreline, harsh and unforgiving. Jens has the fingers of one hand hooked around the cliff’s edge, clinging tight, the other straining to keep hold of Vern. He lets out a grunt, arms aching from the stress of supporting Vern’s body weight, and his grasp on the cliffside weakens, slips, and he panics, letting go of Vern to pull himself back onto solid ground. 

He realizes in an instant what he’s done, looks down and sees nothing but bloodied water, and he’s hit, suddenly, with the realization that Vern is dead, and it’s all because of him, all because he let go and let his best friend fall hundreds of feet into the dark, violent waves—

Jens bolts upright with a gasp, nearly hitting his head on the bunk above his. He’s shaking, chest heaving with every breath, because it was his fault— Vern will never go join a brotherband or work on a wolfship or attend a feast as a full-grown man, and if he’d just held on longer, pulled Vern back onto the cliff, done  _ something— _ his fingers tangle harshly in his hair, but it does nothing to alleviate the burning guilt in his chest. 

Jens is on his feet before he knows it, tossing his blankets to one side and moving towards Frey’s bunk, the movement familiar from years of repetition. He doesn’t even hesitate as he lays a hand on Frey’s shoulder, shaking him awake. Frey’s eyes open slowly, and he blinks at Jens for a second, sleep-addled mind still working to catch up. His expression goes soft, and he pulls himself out of bed, taking his blanket with him. Jens looks away, and suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting. The shaking subsides a little bit as Frey gently directs him out the door of the hut they’re staying in.

The chill of the night air shocks his system as they sit down on the grass, Frey pulling him close with a blanket-wrapped arm. He lets some of the tension melt from his body as he rests his head on Frey’s shoulder. 

“It was the same dream again, wasn’t it?” Frey asks quietly. Jens can almost feel the vibrations of his chest. His eyes are still wide open, like he’s afraid of what’ll happen if he lets himself fall asleep again.

He nods against Frey’s shoulder. “I can’t stop seeing it.” His voice is nearly a whisper. “I killed him, Frey. I killed my best friend.”

Frey moves closer, presses their sides together. “It wasn’t your fault, Jens.”

Jens shakes his head roughly, raising it to look up at Frey. “I let go— I let him fall, and I didn’t catch him, I should’ve saved him, I should’ve— I—” The tears in his eyes spill over as his voice catches, breaks. He scrubs the moisture away, but it keeps coming, sobs wracking his chest. He’s pulled back into Frey’s arms, tucked safely into his lap. Jens can hear Frey’s heartbeat, steady through his nightshirt.

“I was selfish.” The words are raw, have a bite to them. Frey’s breath ruffles his hair. 

“You didn’t have another choice.” Jenz curls his knees to his chest. “I mean it.” He shakes his head against Frey’s shoulder. 

“I was careless. Stupid.” 

“What should you have done?” Frey’s body is warm and steady against his. 

There’s a long pause before he responds. “I should have fallen instead of him.” Jens’ voice is quiet, frustrated in the night air.

Frey holds him the tiniest bit closer. “Is that what he would’ve wanted?”

Jens looks down at the ground. “...No,” he says, and it feels like a confession. He looks away to hide the moisture building in his eyes. Frey’s hand finds a place near the top of his head, smoothing down a tuft of his hair. 

“Then I don’t think you should keep punishing yourself for something that was out of your control.” The words hit something in him, resonate, and he breaks, lets the tears fall. A sob bursts out of him, and Frey strokes his hair, presses a kiss into the top of his head. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he murmurs quietly. They’re tucked close now, Jens’ face buried in Frey’s jerkin. 

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to,” he chokes out.

“I know. It's okay, I know.”

“I didn’t want him to fall.” The words are quiet, broken. Frey holds him close.

“I know.” 

Jens is gasping for breath, sobs tearing out of his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, clutching to Frey like a lifeline, like Frey will disappear if he lets go. His cries are muffled.

Eventually, his tears run dry. He feels numb, eyes swollen— he’s run out of guilt to drain. A yawn escapes him, and there is a hand in his hair, running through it and coaxing him to sleep.

And so he does, shifting until his head finds a comfortable place buried in Frey’s neck. 

Jens wakes up in Frey’s bunk, tucked into his chest. The tent is empty, all the other wWolves having left them to sleep.

He feels lighter, almost, content to just lay there and drift off in the comfort.


End file.
